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Albus stood in front of a cloth covered mass, heart in his throat. Shoulders hunched and eyes glassy, he peered at the dark fabric. He’d been paused in this spot for a few minutes, not daring to look at what the mirror holds. He wanted to see what was behind it, needed to see, but he also knew what it would do to him, what it always did to him. He felt immense guilt for being here. Not many people knew about the existence of the mirror of Erised, specially not the ministry, and no one knew he came here, nor did they know what he saw in it and he was going to keep it that way.
Something had snapped in him earlier that week. When the ministry had come and asked him to stop Grindelwald something was shaken loose. He didn’t know exactly was it was, suppressed longing, deep regret, need, perhaps. He was usually good at hiding his sorrow from the other professors, but even they started to notice that the usual twinkle in his eyes was gone. The images of him and Gellert the minister had shown him in his office had been hard to watch. It brought back memories and tore open old wounds. He’d spent the last week trying to steady himself, to not think about his past but he couldn’t stop himself from coming down here anyway.
Shifting his weight from one foot to the other he clenched and unclenched his fists, mind carefully blank and eyes fixed on the covered mirror. Finally, after a quick deep breath he reached out. Albus’ hand, clad in a silver bracelet, shook as he reached for the fabric, it’s texture familiar, more familiar than he was willing to admit. He tore the fabric to the ground in one swift motion and looked, drinking in what he was seeing, the man he was seeing. The one he always saw.
Gellert was young in the mirror, peering back at him with warm eyes, a sly but good natured smile playing on his lips. He looked the way he remembered him from their summer together. When they first met, young and innocent, full of hope. Albus’ lip quirked but he also felt a deep sadness in his chest, like someone was pressing down on it and holding his throat closed. Albus kept his gaze on Gellerts mismatched one. He missed that person, even though he didn’t exist anymore. He remembered meeting and getting to know the younger man. Albus had never dreamed, at that point in his life, that he would ever meet someone like Gellert. Or that he could ever lose him. Albus swallowed hard, throat dry.
The young man in the mirror grinned at him and then the image shifted, swirling and bubbling into something new. It showed the dim inside of a barn. Albus already knew what this was going to be, what it always was and what it always will be. Albus looked away, gathering himself, rolling his shoulders, for they have grown stiff and tight, drawn up like a bow. He realized he wasn’t breathing, so he took a ragged breath before looking up.
The scene was blurred at the edges but the emotion and passion in it was evident. In the mirror, Gellert was on top of Albus, kissing him. They were tangled together on a blanket laid out on straw. It had been quite uncomfortable, Albus muses, sadness and nostalgia washing over him again like a wave. The young men in the mirror didn’t seem to care though, they kept kissing and touching. They had both been new to this, it was both of their first times, but it hadn’t stopped them from being enthusiastic.
Albus remembered that night like it was yesterday. Rain had caught them out in the field, so they ran to the barn soaked but laughing, falling all over each other. Once the door to the barn was shut and locked they’d taken off their drenched shirts and hung them to dry. Gellert had been the one to initiate things, pulling Albus close to him after an awkward moment of blushing and rambling and giggling and kissed him quiet. It had felt good, so good. Soft and innocent. Just them in the barn, nothing existing outside those four walls. What Albus wouldn’t give to live in that moment forever. It had been so pure, so simple. They hadn’t felt heartbreak yet, hadn’t known the horrors and hardships the future holds. It was beautiful then and Albus missed that feeling. He hadn’t felt so light and carefree since that summer, their summer. His heart ached at that thought, tightening in his chest, making it hard to breathe.
The mirror pulled Albus out of his musing as it shifted again, this time showing him the current Gellert Grindelwald and Albus felt like a clump of ice had formed in his belly. The man in the mirror looked different than when he was a boy. Almost unrecognizable, but Albus could pick out those eyes anywhere. They were the same eyes he remembered from so long ago. The light blue contrasting with the whiskey brown made Albus’ stomach tighten and churn. He wanted to drown in them, let them suck him in and never let him go. He wanted to run his hands through that blond hair, feel it between his fingers, pull him close. Albus shook his head violently, trying to clear those thoughts, eyebrows knit tightly together and mouth turning downward in sorrow and shame.
The Gellert in the mirror was looking down at Albus with a blank expression, but suddenly it shifted. Gellert smiled easily at him, eyes turning up, lips quirking. He looked beautiful, Albus thought. He looked relaxed, shifting his weight lightly, head cocking to the side as he examined Albus. The older man could not say the same for himself, his shoulders had gone rigid again and his throat was closing even though he was trying to swallow. He took a gasping breath, trying to recollect himself.
Albus looked away and closed his eyes, breathing heavily though his nose. Gellert would never look at him like this, he knew that, but the thought still stung. They hadn’t ended on good terms and it has been so long since they last saw each other. And here Albus was anyway. Looking into a mirror at a man he couldn’t have and that didn’t want him. If he did he would have been here, Albus thought, he would have come back.
He remembered the promises Gellert made him when they had been in bed together, tangled up in sheets and each other. The younger man had told him how he would never leave, how they’d be together forever, how they’d realize their plans together. Well, Albus thought as tears started working their way up into his still closed eyes, maybe it was his fault after all for rejecting Gellerts plan, for speaking out against his inhumane and crazy it was. They could have been together now if he hadn’t said anything. Maybe they would have been happy, maybe Albus could have been happy. Maybe there wouldn’t be a gaping hole in his heart and maybe he wouldn’t have to be dreading the day he finally has to face Gellert again. Maybe Gellert would want him the way Albus wanted him. Maybe if he was good enough for Gellert he would have come back.
A sob broke out of Albus. It hit him so hard he almost doubled over. Bringing the back of his hand to his mouth, he opened his eyes and tears spilled out as he finally let himself cry. The room of requirements was silent except for the soft sobs of a broken man. He allowed himself to feel all the emotions he’d been suppressing, allowed himself to grieve. All the hurt and regret, the pain of not knowing what could have been and what should have been, and the guilt. The guilt of being here in the first place and the guilt of wanting a man that has done so many horrible things and has caused so much suffering. He knew he was spiraling but he couldn’t help it.
The way Gellert had made him feel that summer was something that no one ever managed to recreate again. They’d been in it together, just the two of them against the world. Gellerts lips made him feel wanted, needed. When they’d been together intimately for the first time it had felt so right. Nothing he’d done since made him feel that way. They’d laid together for hours, in fields, beside lakes and in bed, talking, musing, joking. They understood each other perfectly, it was a bond like no other. And Albus had fucked it up. He should have done things differently. He knew that he wasn’t in a good headspace right now, that he shouldn’t let these thoughts rule him but he couldn’t stop it. And he didn’t want to. Not right now.
Albus sunk down into a squat, resting his knees on the floor, then sinking down onto his heels. He placed his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands and continued to sob. He curled in on himself, feeling emotions he rarely if ever let himself feel. He let himself feel sorry for himself. For the young man who got hurt. And for the man who’s heart is still broken.
He shouldn’t be here, he shouldn’t be aching for this man. But here he was anyway, breaking down. Sobbing in anguish. He didn’t know if he could take the crushing pain in his chest, or if he could ever recover from this. He could practically feel his heart shatter into pieces yet again. His world was on fire, burning to the ground, it felt like. The ministry had come in and stirred up emotion he didn’t want to feel again. And the worst part about it, Albus thought, bitterly clenching his teeth, was that he felt like the only person that could save him right now was Gellert. What a wicked world. Under all that anger and fear and guilt Albus also felt cheated. Gellert had held him in his arms and told him that he loved him and that he would stay forever. But he was wasn’t here. He wasn’t. And he never would be again. Albus didn’t want to fall in love, didn’t want to still be in love.
He stayed like this for a while, gripping his hair in trembling fingers and sobbing until he couldn’t anymore, until he didn’t have any tears left in him. He stared at the floor, bleary eyed, expression blank.
He sniffed for the last time and then sighed heavily. Straightening his backs a little, but not daring to look in the mirror, he drew his sleeve up to his face and wiped away the moisture. His face and throat felt raw from crying, his chest heavy, empty. He was tired. A deep existential kind of tired, the kind of tired sleep couldn’t cure. Swallowing hard he dragged himself to his feet, patting the dust off his pants, straightening his vest and tie. He ran a hand through his hair and then looked into the mirror again.
Gellert was still standing there, that soft smile on his lips. He looked at Albus with question in his eyes, as if wondering why Albus was upset. Albus snorted bitterly at the look on his face. As much as he wanted to he couldn’t hate Gellert. He didn’t know why, but he couldn’t help affection from blossoming faintly in his chest. Now that he had let the negative emotions out, positive ones were making their way up to the surface. He hated this part of himself the most. The part that was in love with a killer.
With one last look at his past lover Albus bent down to pick up the dark silk fabric he’d discarded earlier. He threw it onto the mirror unceremoniously. With a heavy relieved sigh he leaned his forehead against the now clothed mirror. He could still feel the cold of it through the fabric. The cold was soothing against his skin, grounding him, bringing him down from his spiral, back to the real world which currently wasn’t any more comforting.
He stayed like this for a short moment, collecting the final few pieces of himself.
With a soft sigh he pushed off the mirror and turned around, making his way out of the room quickly. He didn’t want to come back here, didn’t want to need to come back. But he knew his heart would bring him back sooner or later. He hoped it was later, but he knew it would be sooner.